Life unplugged…
Sleep is a luxury I cant afford,like a million other pleasures, instead I sit and stare at this screen wondering what I can do to snap out of this abyss, I am just rediscovering music yet again, having deprived my self of this simple pleasure, I hope to embrace it just to find the peace that’s evaded me for the longest time….
This world, this place, this hole is a place I rather not be, not like I have a choice….
This persistent cough refuses to abate, the dog sleeps peacefully, every now catching a glimpse of me, making sure I am around,
Half past one in the morning, I sit my desk at work, unshaven and unruly I seek to find peace, the stale dinner seems to have worked wonders on the overtly sensitive stomach I proudly call mine. This life needs a new meaning, a new beginning, this life needs an overhaul ..a dawn.. a getaway.. and a lot more
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Thursday, April 03, 2008
Paradise yet again..
2nd April 2008
And the day dawns on me yet again, I wonder why …???...I wish I could spend the whole day in bed, listening to music and musing about life, instead I find my self at my work station sans my glasses, which my dog destroyed while I peacefully slept dreaming about the mountains and juicy steaks… such is life.
Blinded and bugged sipping on coffee that tastes like shyte, I ask my self a millionth time, is this what I had envisaged my life to be, Noel Gallagher croons in my headphones, the nausea coupled with a smokers cough makes my existence far more painful and unbearable.
Maybe I need a vacation, a job change, a new career, I wouldn’t know what it would take for me to snap out of this hole I find my self in, I had thought getting a dog would help my cause but alas I was wrong as usual…
2nd April 2008
And the day dawns on me yet again, I wonder why …???...I wish I could spend the whole day in bed, listening to music and musing about life, instead I find my self at my work station sans my glasses, which my dog destroyed while I peacefully slept dreaming about the mountains and juicy steaks… such is life.
Blinded and bugged sipping on coffee that tastes like shyte, I ask my self a millionth time, is this what I had envisaged my life to be, Noel Gallagher croons in my headphones, the nausea coupled with a smokers cough makes my existence far more painful and unbearable.
Maybe I need a vacation, a job change, a new career, I wouldn’t know what it would take for me to snap out of this hole I find my self in, I had thought getting a dog would help my cause but alas I was wrong as usual…
Friday, February 15, 2008
Summer at our doorstep.
The cold abates, the zephyr mellows, soft like linen it caresses your skin, the fog melts away, summer is at our doorstep, sweaty uncomfortable days and torturous nights plagued with mutant mosquitoes stands up and demands attention.
I hate the mere thought of what lies in store, I cant help but hope time stands still, come March and the great Delhi meltdown shall become, like a pot over an unabated fire, Delhi shall boil over.
Mere mortals like me shall suffer, without air conditioning, and always dressed in a black jacket I like millions shall be a victim of the ruthless summer sun.
The cold abates, the zephyr mellows, soft like linen it caresses your skin, the fog melts away, summer is at our doorstep, sweaty uncomfortable days and torturous nights plagued with mutant mosquitoes stands up and demands attention.
I hate the mere thought of what lies in store, I cant help but hope time stands still, come March and the great Delhi meltdown shall become, like a pot over an unabated fire, Delhi shall boil over.
Mere mortals like me shall suffer, without air conditioning, and always dressed in a black jacket I like millions shall be a victim of the ruthless summer sun.
Lost..
If I who I am is what I have, and what I have is lost? Then who am I? A conundrum nevertheless, a question without an answer, a thought without a process, a minute without a meaning.
The never ending quest of discovering and re discovering leaves you grappling in the dark searching for the soul that seems to have flown away.
Some times it makes me sad though, just to realize that its gone, I have to remind my self that some birds just need to fly.. Their feathers are just too bright.. and when they fly away... the part of you that knows it was a sin to lock them up does rejoice.. but still the place you live in is that much more drab and empty when they are gone..
If I who I am is what I have, and what I have is lost? Then who am I? A conundrum nevertheless, a question without an answer, a thought without a process, a minute without a meaning.
The never ending quest of discovering and re discovering leaves you grappling in the dark searching for the soul that seems to have flown away.
Some times it makes me sad though, just to realize that its gone, I have to remind my self that some birds just need to fly.. Their feathers are just too bright.. and when they fly away... the part of you that knows it was a sin to lock them up does rejoice.. but still the place you live in is that much more drab and empty when they are gone..
The fountain of life, all confined in a minute…
Most of us spend every minute gone by without as much as giving it a second thought, like a mirage we let it dilute into the oblivion, failing to realize the significance of the minute in question gone by.
For most its just a moment, a moment of utter insignificance never to surface again. However what we do miss in the whole process is the structural value it adds to our lives, every passing minute is like a building block, a moment, that moment which makes us what we are,
Every second, every minute is a stepping stone to what we eventually end up being, a constant changing dynamic structure we call our lives is a result of the minutes we have seen pass us by.
Most of us spend every minute gone by without as much as giving it a second thought, like a mirage we let it dilute into the oblivion, failing to realize the significance of the minute in question gone by.
For most its just a moment, a moment of utter insignificance never to surface again. However what we do miss in the whole process is the structural value it adds to our lives, every passing minute is like a building block, a moment, that moment which makes us what we are,
Every second, every minute is a stepping stone to what we eventually end up being, a constant changing dynamic structure we call our lives is a result of the minutes we have seen pass us by.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Just another day in paradise...
14th February
My feet were freezing, I lay cuddled on the driver's seat of my car, the day had dawned on me, and I had spent the night sleeping in my car, there was no particular reason for this blatant act of madness, it was sheer exhaustion coupled with nights of no sleep, which lead me to this drastic act of self torture.
The last few days have been as hectic as they come, a short trip to the west coast, hundreds of client meetings, a quasi verbal brawl with the Chief Justice, in all a superlative exciting package, and somewhere along the line it burned me down.
So there I was this morning, fresh from a night in my car, tired as hell, drained, life felt like it had it been run over by a freight train.
Am back at work, drained but alive, trying to get some useless research done, replying to the hundreds of legal opinions the boss needs.
From my vantage point I can see the boss sitting in a meeting with a couple of associates and I am so glad it aint me this time, every meeting with her is like walking barefoot on hot coal. And if it aint the coal it’s the dog, yes the wee dog, who loves snapping at you when the boss is around. Its funny how you have to work around the dog when you are briefing the boss. The dog sits at this vantage point on her desk right around all the files you need, and she just loves biting your fingers off every time you try and touch any of those files, so in all… it can be construed as fun.
This day shall roll on too, though all I can think of is my bed back home which patiently awaits my sorry arse… Evening come fast….
14th February
My feet were freezing, I lay cuddled on the driver's seat of my car, the day had dawned on me, and I had spent the night sleeping in my car, there was no particular reason for this blatant act of madness, it was sheer exhaustion coupled with nights of no sleep, which lead me to this drastic act of self torture.
The last few days have been as hectic as they come, a short trip to the west coast, hundreds of client meetings, a quasi verbal brawl with the Chief Justice, in all a superlative exciting package, and somewhere along the line it burned me down.
So there I was this morning, fresh from a night in my car, tired as hell, drained, life felt like it had it been run over by a freight train.
Am back at work, drained but alive, trying to get some useless research done, replying to the hundreds of legal opinions the boss needs.
From my vantage point I can see the boss sitting in a meeting with a couple of associates and I am so glad it aint me this time, every meeting with her is like walking barefoot on hot coal. And if it aint the coal it’s the dog, yes the wee dog, who loves snapping at you when the boss is around. Its funny how you have to work around the dog when you are briefing the boss. The dog sits at this vantage point on her desk right around all the files you need, and she just loves biting your fingers off every time you try and touch any of those files, so in all… it can be construed as fun.
This day shall roll on too, though all I can think of is my bed back home which patiently awaits my sorry arse… Evening come fast….
Monday, February 11, 2008
This is my Jehad….
This is my Jehad, this is my (un) holy war, this is my life, where I wake up to reality and wonder, why the world spins the way it does, riddled by hate, blood and deceit the world around me is tearing at its seams.
The nest I hide in, is my safe haven, but the minute I step out I can sense the rage, the anger, I can smell the pain, the poor suffering, children starving, begging, being forced into labor, everywhere I go, everywhere I look, I find emptiness, I find the essence of humanity being trampled by the reality of our existence.
It is sad that my Jehad is a selfish battle where I cant give anyone but my self happiness, I am alone yet surrounded by those who rubbish my claims and those who stand by me.
I cant stand and watch these blatant acts of self destruction, Kidney kingpins, overtly sensitive lawyers who cant watch to people share something as beautiful as a kiss, a leader who aims to tear the secular seam of this country, who threatens to treat humans from a different part of the same country as dust and dirt, I cant face to stand my fellow countrymen re- electing leaders who washed their hands in the blood of thousands of innocent Muslims.
This is my life, this is our reality, we are all surrounded by this filth, this is my Jehad.
This is my Jehad, this is my (un) holy war, this is my life, where I wake up to reality and wonder, why the world spins the way it does, riddled by hate, blood and deceit the world around me is tearing at its seams.
The nest I hide in, is my safe haven, but the minute I step out I can sense the rage, the anger, I can smell the pain, the poor suffering, children starving, begging, being forced into labor, everywhere I go, everywhere I look, I find emptiness, I find the essence of humanity being trampled by the reality of our existence.
It is sad that my Jehad is a selfish battle where I cant give anyone but my self happiness, I am alone yet surrounded by those who rubbish my claims and those who stand by me.
I cant stand and watch these blatant acts of self destruction, Kidney kingpins, overtly sensitive lawyers who cant watch to people share something as beautiful as a kiss, a leader who aims to tear the secular seam of this country, who threatens to treat humans from a different part of the same country as dust and dirt, I cant face to stand my fellow countrymen re- electing leaders who washed their hands in the blood of thousands of innocent Muslims.
This is my life, this is our reality, we are all surrounded by this filth, this is my Jehad.
Wednesday, February 06, 2008
The World Spins Madly On.
Every now and then I wake up and realize the world I knew, had moved on, it had changed, not sure about the good bit.. but it had changed aright, friends were either dead or married, not sure which one’s worse though.
I, on the other hand, still sit at my study, trying hard to appease the savior within.
It aint helping, frankly everything is moving too fast for my own good, am I losing touch with reality? I wouldn’t know, an answer I might not have.
Every now and then I wake up and realize the world I knew, had moved on, it had changed, not sure about the good bit.. but it had changed aright, friends were either dead or married, not sure which one’s worse though.
I, on the other hand, still sit at my study, trying hard to appease the savior within.
It aint helping, frankly everything is moving too fast for my own good, am I losing touch with reality? I wouldn’t know, an answer I might not have.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Tuesday this week…
Another week gone by, one less week to live (the eternal pessimist within jumps with joy).. the cold is near bone chilling and I am loving every bit of it, dressed like a tramp I pass my days in sheer delight, summer is only a month away and the thought of it makes me wanna die.
Delhi summers for most who have never experienced it, is straight out of a microwave, dry, bone burning heat, coupled with frequent power cuts and genetically mutated mosquitoes from hell, and makes life less worth living.
If only I was the weather God, I would delete summer from my weather system altogether.
I am back at work on a useless Tuesday afternoon, and lunch is a few minutes away, Van Gogh and Michael Angelo (my two Siamese fighter fish, look as bored as I do). The apple snails munch on some carrot and a lettuce leaf, life in this workstation has never been this dull.
The only thing smiling here is the picture of Mahmoud (10, a rag picker in West Bank), I often stare at him, surrounded by trash, dressed in rags and throwing a priceless toothy smile back. I don’t know him and probably never will, but in a strange way he gives me hope…
Another week gone by, one less week to live (the eternal pessimist within jumps with joy).. the cold is near bone chilling and I am loving every bit of it, dressed like a tramp I pass my days in sheer delight, summer is only a month away and the thought of it makes me wanna die.
Delhi summers for most who have never experienced it, is straight out of a microwave, dry, bone burning heat, coupled with frequent power cuts and genetically mutated mosquitoes from hell, and makes life less worth living.
If only I was the weather God, I would delete summer from my weather system altogether.
I am back at work on a useless Tuesday afternoon, and lunch is a few minutes away, Van Gogh and Michael Angelo (my two Siamese fighter fish, look as bored as I do). The apple snails munch on some carrot and a lettuce leaf, life in this workstation has never been this dull.
The only thing smiling here is the picture of Mahmoud (10, a rag picker in West Bank), I often stare at him, surrounded by trash, dressed in rags and throwing a priceless toothy smile back. I don’t know him and probably never will, but in a strange way he gives me hope…
Monday, January 21, 2008
21st January ...
Another moment of madness...
Construe this as a moment of madness, a moment where time stood still, faceless and empty like the thoughts in my head, a moment I thought would be my last, flashbulbs and cameras, social activists, Supreme Court lawyers and hundreds of journalists packed in room with a woman, a victim of rape and genocide in the midst of it all…
Dressed in a brown quasi overcoat acting like a shadow and consultant to my boss, I stood there taking it all in, slow.. the pain the woman had gone through, the struggle for justice and the eventual victory in our struggle towards achieving the impossible.
It was then that it struck me, more like an image in my head, a booming sound, earth shattering and painful engulfing the room, it could have been our end had it not been in my head, but I pictured it, laying numb in one corner breathing my last, numb and disillusioned from the blast that could have ripped the room, I am not intuitive (thankfully) .. but I felt it.
For all those we stand up against, men in power who hate us for hating them for the murders and rapes they shamelessly committed and supported, this could have been an opportunity to get rid of all of us in one effortless go.
With no metal detectors, not a single security personal this could have and would have been the easiest way to target the civil society activists who have raised their voices time and again against the tyrannical and barbaric genocidal rule of the few we oppose.
Thankfully it was all in my head, I survived this and so did the hundreds with me, but for how long is a question I rather not have an answer for.
Another moment of madness...
Construe this as a moment of madness, a moment where time stood still, faceless and empty like the thoughts in my head, a moment I thought would be my last, flashbulbs and cameras, social activists, Supreme Court lawyers and hundreds of journalists packed in room with a woman, a victim of rape and genocide in the midst of it all…
Dressed in a brown quasi overcoat acting like a shadow and consultant to my boss, I stood there taking it all in, slow.. the pain the woman had gone through, the struggle for justice and the eventual victory in our struggle towards achieving the impossible.
It was then that it struck me, more like an image in my head, a booming sound, earth shattering and painful engulfing the room, it could have been our end had it not been in my head, but I pictured it, laying numb in one corner breathing my last, numb and disillusioned from the blast that could have ripped the room, I am not intuitive (thankfully) .. but I felt it.
For all those we stand up against, men in power who hate us for hating them for the murders and rapes they shamelessly committed and supported, this could have been an opportunity to get rid of all of us in one effortless go.
With no metal detectors, not a single security personal this could have and would have been the easiest way to target the civil society activists who have raised their voices time and again against the tyrannical and barbaric genocidal rule of the few we oppose.
Thankfully it was all in my head, I survived this and so did the hundreds with me, but for how long is a question I rather not have an answer for.
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Egg Curry and Justice- A scary dichotomy
Guess there is only one way around this, I need to dig deep and start aiming at posting things on a daily basis. (aiming for the stars am I?), but anyways there is no harm giving it a shot.
15th Jan 08,
Another day gone by, spent at the Supreme Court, wondering if this is what I wanted from life, a constant duel, the never ending bickering.... the bohemian pot smoking me feels all deprived and ignored.
Black coats, a whole hoard of judges with inflated egos and accents from hell, (half my time is spent deciphering their distorted speech).
I cant seem to get the thought of quitting this and moving to the mountains to smoke some pot and farm some apples out of my head.
But anyways I passed out at Court yet again, sweet dreamy sleep engulfed me, where I even dreamt of hitting Brett Lee for a six ....was a welcome change from watching and hearing a senior counsel argue why coal mining in West Bengal needs to be stopped, or where a bunch of Indian Sadhus stormed into the court room waiting for the much awaited judgment on whether Ram the Indian God actually existed. ( I am not sure if the US supreme court has ever been moved on the issue of the existence of Jesus Christ). Anyways keeping with the trend of the Indian Legal System both the matters were adjourned…( ever wondered why it takes litigants in India years to see light at the end of the tunnel)
Back at work, the boss was screaming at the court clerk and a client, the weather seemed cloudy but far from stormy ( the weather reports entail the mood of the boss… )
Hours went by… researching… drafting.. more researching… some more drafting and re drafting when I finally decided to take a break…
Was sitting with T taking a break over a cup o' terrible milky tea and discussing my day at the court with the new interns, who were letting one and all know how I passed out while waiting for my matter to come up on board and the conversation settled on the intricacies of how afternoons are spent in court rooms, where judges and lawyers 'like, fight and dig deep to stay awake but fail miserably, the soft snore , the droopy eyes and dropping heads are a common sight.
It was then that it struck us ( T, I give you full credit here), how the lives and the justice of this country rests in the hands of a bunch of sleepy men, who have stuffed their faces with the only edible ‘thing’ available at the Supreme Court cafeteria – the egg curry.
Guess there is only one way around this, I need to dig deep and start aiming at posting things on a daily basis. (aiming for the stars am I?), but anyways there is no harm giving it a shot.
15th Jan 08,
Another day gone by, spent at the Supreme Court, wondering if this is what I wanted from life, a constant duel, the never ending bickering.... the bohemian pot smoking me feels all deprived and ignored.
Black coats, a whole hoard of judges with inflated egos and accents from hell, (half my time is spent deciphering their distorted speech).
I cant seem to get the thought of quitting this and moving to the mountains to smoke some pot and farm some apples out of my head.
But anyways I passed out at Court yet again, sweet dreamy sleep engulfed me, where I even dreamt of hitting Brett Lee for a six ....was a welcome change from watching and hearing a senior counsel argue why coal mining in West Bengal needs to be stopped, or where a bunch of Indian Sadhus stormed into the court room waiting for the much awaited judgment on whether Ram the Indian God actually existed. ( I am not sure if the US supreme court has ever been moved on the issue of the existence of Jesus Christ). Anyways keeping with the trend of the Indian Legal System both the matters were adjourned…( ever wondered why it takes litigants in India years to see light at the end of the tunnel)
Back at work, the boss was screaming at the court clerk and a client, the weather seemed cloudy but far from stormy ( the weather reports entail the mood of the boss… )
Hours went by… researching… drafting.. more researching… some more drafting and re drafting when I finally decided to take a break…
Was sitting with T taking a break over a cup o' terrible milky tea and discussing my day at the court with the new interns, who were letting one and all know how I passed out while waiting for my matter to come up on board and the conversation settled on the intricacies of how afternoons are spent in court rooms, where judges and lawyers 'like, fight and dig deep to stay awake but fail miserably, the soft snore , the droopy eyes and dropping heads are a common sight.
It was then that it struck us ( T, I give you full credit here), how the lives and the justice of this country rests in the hands of a bunch of sleepy men, who have stuffed their faces with the only edible ‘thing’ available at the Supreme Court cafeteria – the egg curry.
Out of the shell…? Almost
A three month hiatus, and I still cant write…its all in the head and its all screwed up, suppression seems to be a thing of the past, the me within is beginning to rebel, signs of rebellion loom large over the horizon, endless hours of staring at my fish are finally paying dividends. There is anger, a dormant volcano is about to explode, unleash hell, wrath and more. This should be fun.
Gone are the days when words would flow like an ocean breeze, where everything around it had a word attached to it.. gone are the times when living everyday was a reason to write, to share…. Ominous signs? Maybe.. I cant be sure… But it might all change..
A three month hiatus, and I still cant write…its all in the head and its all screwed up, suppression seems to be a thing of the past, the me within is beginning to rebel, signs of rebellion loom large over the horizon, endless hours of staring at my fish are finally paying dividends. There is anger, a dormant volcano is about to explode, unleash hell, wrath and more. This should be fun.
Gone are the days when words would flow like an ocean breeze, where everything around it had a word attached to it.. gone are the times when living everyday was a reason to write, to share…. Ominous signs? Maybe.. I cant be sure… But it might all change..
Saturday, September 22, 2007
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Moments to Cherish...
Away from the reality they call my life I find peace in the abyss, those corners I run away from, the darkness I am too scared to call mine. I stand alone like a whole hoard of people, but I find peace in the little things I can call mine.
The fish donning my desk, cannibalistic but beautiful the wee black stripes that swim in the watery prison, the music that plays in my ears, Nick Drake, a talent gone waste, someone who died young but left his mark, that voice deep and touching.
I can only think about that evening at Shane’s place when I had given up all hope of getting through with the mother of all essays a year and a bit more back…. that’s when Shane and Nick drake gave me shelter and hope… a hope that made me see the sun rise that Easter morning….the clouds that threaten to wash away the heat every evening, the long drive back home, surreal, my existence a caldron of emotions and sunsets… of orange skies…
Moments gone by, leaving behind a mark… a drunk Phillipe calling me in the middle of the night howling over his lost belt while he hung perilously from Kelvin’s statue…. the night Wolfgang Ruckert stopped the subway coz all of us had to get back home to get more wasted… the time when Angela helped me fly back home to discover the truth… or the time when Christine sat and gave me hope… or the time when Kate encouraged me to go and fetch my dreams….. these are memories all mine.. all precious… I cherish these moments and more when Atif my slave chopped all those onions and looked the other way when I stole his smokes…or when zareen shared dinner with me from a million miles away when I sat alone in that lill prison I built for my self... walls to high to scale…
I sit here.. an empty bottle of whiskey shares these moments with me… Nick Drake still sings …. Just the way he will for all times to come… I am not alone, I have a million thoughts to share this moment with me , but none better than those who have spent my precious moments with me…
Away from the reality they call my life I find peace in the abyss, those corners I run away from, the darkness I am too scared to call mine. I stand alone like a whole hoard of people, but I find peace in the little things I can call mine.
The fish donning my desk, cannibalistic but beautiful the wee black stripes that swim in the watery prison, the music that plays in my ears, Nick Drake, a talent gone waste, someone who died young but left his mark, that voice deep and touching.
I can only think about that evening at Shane’s place when I had given up all hope of getting through with the mother of all essays a year and a bit more back…. that’s when Shane and Nick drake gave me shelter and hope… a hope that made me see the sun rise that Easter morning….the clouds that threaten to wash away the heat every evening, the long drive back home, surreal, my existence a caldron of emotions and sunsets… of orange skies…
Moments gone by, leaving behind a mark… a drunk Phillipe calling me in the middle of the night howling over his lost belt while he hung perilously from Kelvin’s statue…. the night Wolfgang Ruckert stopped the subway coz all of us had to get back home to get more wasted… the time when Angela helped me fly back home to discover the truth… or the time when Christine sat and gave me hope… or the time when Kate encouraged me to go and fetch my dreams….. these are memories all mine.. all precious… I cherish these moments and more when Atif my slave chopped all those onions and looked the other way when I stole his smokes…or when zareen shared dinner with me from a million miles away when I sat alone in that lill prison I built for my self... walls to high to scale…
I sit here.. an empty bottle of whiskey shares these moments with me… Nick Drake still sings …. Just the way he will for all times to come… I am not alone, I have a million thoughts to share this moment with me , but none better than those who have spent my precious moments with me…
Friday, August 31, 2007
Everything random…
The black gold sits at my desk. Liquid and bitter in its conception, the whole purpose to appease my disheveled soul. Comprehension of the task at hand rather skewed, chaos as usual ensues around, books and files don my surroundings. The pending work file seems an endless task
My mind is on a trip a trip down memory lane, drowning in emotions strong and precious, moments of joy and a billion good byes, faces I will never see again, , mails I shall never receive again, places I will never visit again, they all flood my thoughts, friends lost and found, images captured forever.
Everything else takes a back seat, the work the files the chaos, its me and my mind, reading mails sent over the years, pictures in my mind and those on my hard drive. My fish give me company, chasing each other in their wee watery prison donning my desk. The wee shell and brilliant shades of gold and blue…
The black gold sits at my desk. Liquid and bitter in its conception, the whole purpose to appease my disheveled soul. Comprehension of the task at hand rather skewed, chaos as usual ensues around, books and files don my surroundings. The pending work file seems an endless task
My mind is on a trip a trip down memory lane, drowning in emotions strong and precious, moments of joy and a billion good byes, faces I will never see again, , mails I shall never receive again, places I will never visit again, they all flood my thoughts, friends lost and found, images captured forever.
Everything else takes a back seat, the work the files the chaos, its me and my mind, reading mails sent over the years, pictures in my mind and those on my hard drive. My fish give me company, chasing each other in their wee watery prison donning my desk. The wee shell and brilliant shades of gold and blue…
Monday, August 27, 2007
A New beginning to an erstwhile end...
Woke up this morning…. It was yet another Monday morning…Yeah!! The most dreadful part of the week, however I felt different, I for a change was not a victim of the usual ‘Monday Morning Blues’…the battle within had eased.. a sense of utopian satisfaction engulfed my soul…. The clouds … the quasi-cool breeze seemed to have washed away all the existential angst.
For once the early morning rush hour traffic didn’t seem to bother me… I even wore a crisp white shirt and my cleanest pair of Levis’ (I had hoped, I wouldn’t have to go to court )
The day rolled by, I was asked to attend a matter at the Supreme Court, so had to get into my court apparel ( a freaking white starched shirt, black trousers, black jacket and a black gown and all of it in the freaking humidity)… minutes passed me by…a drop in an ocean of black.. I watched and lived it all…
Back in office I cleaned my desk, the worn torn Iraqi landscape for once resembled uptown Manhattan. Shocked faces around caught my eye…I was trying hard to be positive…a sole survivor in a genocidal attack was a tough ask… Colleagues around me fell like nine pins… one by one…slow yet steady…every meeting with the boss, the admin head and the quasi boss for them was like surviving a Nazi gas chamber … distraught faces.. frustration writ large on their faces… I admist all that chaos held my head high.. I was walking ‘the’ line.. I was determined not to give in … my mind thought of ways of avoiding another battle with the bitch of an admin head..( lord do we hate her)…
The sun set over Delhi, the birds flew back to their wee nests… however we were still stuck at work.. I sat at my desk sipping on some cold and bitter coffee and staring into space. The day’s newspapers waited patiently …. Bits of paper with nothing but gore blood and heart wrenching tales awaited me… pictures of bodies from the recent terrorist attack… the story of the woman who died of starvation in Delhi… and the governments new devices to screw the middle class over… they were all there… black and red ink on white… stories… all for me to take in and document…
Darkness brought with it an empty feeling, one by one the survivors from the gas chambers streamed out of work… glad to live and survive another day… I however continued to sit at my desk.. taking it all in… I could have thrown another tantrum, there were a million reasons to the do the same, but I had resigned to my fate.. I was content to be swimming in shyte… I was hungry.. I was broke… but it didn’t matter.. coz for once I wasn’t the man I used to be. Maybe I had lost.. maybe I wont fight another battle.. maybe I wont break pens and throw files.. or maybe even bang desks and threaten to kill the admin bitch for not clearing my cheques, maybe just maybe I wont even stand up against the tyranny or throw a fit against a new law at work…
The drive back home was long… unwinding roads.. and chaotic traffic… I was kept company by some random doctor over the radio, who couldn’t stop ranting about anxiety disorders.. strangely I could relate to it..( I was losing it) I showed at least 7 out of the 10 symptoms the Doctor had ranted about…
In retrospect however… I wonder if this newfound attitude was any good….the Indian cricket team yet again grabbed defeat from the jaws of victory… and once again I felt like shyte… complete shyte.. I regretted coming home to watch a bunch of 11 wankers get their sorry arses kicked.. wasn’t the shameful exit from the World Cup enough for a lifetime.. a country of over 1 billion people and we cant find 11 decent wankers to win a game of cricket…
So here I am… sitting in my living room.. sprawled like a dead rat… still dressed in the once white shirt now crumpled and dirty and my ill fitting black trousers… nothing has changed… I feel exactly the same.. except more resigned to this fate.. this life.. this slavery…
Woke up this morning…. It was yet another Monday morning…Yeah!! The most dreadful part of the week, however I felt different, I for a change was not a victim of the usual ‘Monday Morning Blues’…the battle within had eased.. a sense of utopian satisfaction engulfed my soul…. The clouds … the quasi-cool breeze seemed to have washed away all the existential angst.
For once the early morning rush hour traffic didn’t seem to bother me… I even wore a crisp white shirt and my cleanest pair of Levis’ (I had hoped, I wouldn’t have to go to court )
The day rolled by, I was asked to attend a matter at the Supreme Court, so had to get into my court apparel ( a freaking white starched shirt, black trousers, black jacket and a black gown and all of it in the freaking humidity)… minutes passed me by…a drop in an ocean of black.. I watched and lived it all…
Back in office I cleaned my desk, the worn torn Iraqi landscape for once resembled uptown Manhattan. Shocked faces around caught my eye…I was trying hard to be positive…a sole survivor in a genocidal attack was a tough ask… Colleagues around me fell like nine pins… one by one…slow yet steady…every meeting with the boss, the admin head and the quasi boss for them was like surviving a Nazi gas chamber … distraught faces.. frustration writ large on their faces… I admist all that chaos held my head high.. I was walking ‘the’ line.. I was determined not to give in … my mind thought of ways of avoiding another battle with the bitch of an admin head..( lord do we hate her)…
The sun set over Delhi, the birds flew back to their wee nests… however we were still stuck at work.. I sat at my desk sipping on some cold and bitter coffee and staring into space. The day’s newspapers waited patiently …. Bits of paper with nothing but gore blood and heart wrenching tales awaited me… pictures of bodies from the recent terrorist attack… the story of the woman who died of starvation in Delhi… and the governments new devices to screw the middle class over… they were all there… black and red ink on white… stories… all for me to take in and document…
Darkness brought with it an empty feeling, one by one the survivors from the gas chambers streamed out of work… glad to live and survive another day… I however continued to sit at my desk.. taking it all in… I could have thrown another tantrum, there were a million reasons to the do the same, but I had resigned to my fate.. I was content to be swimming in shyte… I was hungry.. I was broke… but it didn’t matter.. coz for once I wasn’t the man I used to be. Maybe I had lost.. maybe I wont fight another battle.. maybe I wont break pens and throw files.. or maybe even bang desks and threaten to kill the admin bitch for not clearing my cheques, maybe just maybe I wont even stand up against the tyranny or throw a fit against a new law at work…
The drive back home was long… unwinding roads.. and chaotic traffic… I was kept company by some random doctor over the radio, who couldn’t stop ranting about anxiety disorders.. strangely I could relate to it..( I was losing it) I showed at least 7 out of the 10 symptoms the Doctor had ranted about…
In retrospect however… I wonder if this newfound attitude was any good….the Indian cricket team yet again grabbed defeat from the jaws of victory… and once again I felt like shyte… complete shyte.. I regretted coming home to watch a bunch of 11 wankers get their sorry arses kicked.. wasn’t the shameful exit from the World Cup enough for a lifetime.. a country of over 1 billion people and we cant find 11 decent wankers to win a game of cricket…
So here I am… sitting in my living room.. sprawled like a dead rat… still dressed in the once white shirt now crumpled and dirty and my ill fitting black trousers… nothing has changed… I feel exactly the same.. except more resigned to this fate.. this life.. this slavery…
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Freedom
Independence day… oh well for most of us its nothing but a break from our mundane lives, a public holiday, a day to unwind, a day when you don’t have to fight the traffic or face the shyte of life, but lets just stop here for a minute. Its independence day a day we ought to sit back and reflect on the struggles and the blood lost, a day when we celebrate the victory of human spirit a day when we ought to realize that a lot has been achieved or maybe not? None of us will ever fully know the extent of the things there are to know and love about this great country.
But because our star of freedom has shone - more or less intact, at least in political terms - for 60 years, - today is the day to stop, pause and consider that millions of us are still not free. We are moved around by dams, roads and mines. Our villages are burned in hatred-filled riots. Our husbands, brothers, sisters, uncles, aunts, daughters, mothers still die of diseases all too easily preventable, we still do not know what it is to read and write, we do not know whether the peace of our forest or field or town will remain undisturbed from one year to the next. We still sell our bodies to buy our bread and we still bleed at the hands of our fellow countrymen. We still live in shacks by the roadside. We are hundreds of years away from 15th August, 1947. And 60 years ahead of it.
Independence day… oh well for most of us its nothing but a break from our mundane lives, a public holiday, a day to unwind, a day when you don’t have to fight the traffic or face the shyte of life, but lets just stop here for a minute. Its independence day a day we ought to sit back and reflect on the struggles and the blood lost, a day when we celebrate the victory of human spirit a day when we ought to realize that a lot has been achieved or maybe not? None of us will ever fully know the extent of the things there are to know and love about this great country.
But because our star of freedom has shone - more or less intact, at least in political terms - for 60 years, - today is the day to stop, pause and consider that millions of us are still not free. We are moved around by dams, roads and mines. Our villages are burned in hatred-filled riots. Our husbands, brothers, sisters, uncles, aunts, daughters, mothers still die of diseases all too easily preventable, we still do not know what it is to read and write, we do not know whether the peace of our forest or field or town will remain undisturbed from one year to the next. We still sell our bodies to buy our bread and we still bleed at the hands of our fellow countrymen. We still live in shacks by the roadside. We are hundreds of years away from 15th August, 1947. And 60 years ahead of it.
Orange skies
Days roll on… spells of rain wash away the heat… shades of amber at dusk.
Surreal in its conception and construction…. I watch the rays of sun paint the cloud streaked skies every evening.. the traffic lights and the chaos all around takes a back seat as I watch those colors unveil magic every evening. Peaceful and beautiful they light my life… memories from the past flood my thoughts.. a child chasing down the many dragon flies…. Wee shorts and old shoes the smell of the fresh grass and those orange skies… not a worry in the world… just the boy and his kingdom painted orange every monsoon. I am that child again.. every evening I relive the past.
Days roll on… spells of rain wash away the heat… shades of amber at dusk.
Surreal in its conception and construction…. I watch the rays of sun paint the cloud streaked skies every evening.. the traffic lights and the chaos all around takes a back seat as I watch those colors unveil magic every evening. Peaceful and beautiful they light my life… memories from the past flood my thoughts.. a child chasing down the many dragon flies…. Wee shorts and old shoes the smell of the fresh grass and those orange skies… not a worry in the world… just the boy and his kingdom painted orange every monsoon. I am that child again.. every evening I relive the past.
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Lost lights shine through the glass doors of my perception, blinding whatever is left of this existence. Ghosts from the past haunt the present, free they float through this abyss, sucking the life I once called mine. No matter how far I run, or where I hide they find me, or maybe it’s the other way round… twisted like a mind of a psychopath they weave themselves in circles, I find my self entwined in.
I walk, slow, searching for peace, peace that’s utopian in its own construction. The rain, the gale, they all bring back memories I once buried. I am scared, I am lost, I am just…..
I walk, slow, searching for peace, peace that’s utopian in its own construction. The rain, the gale, they all bring back memories I once buried. I am scared, I am lost, I am just…..
Monday, June 18, 2007
The End…Of this Summer…?
The last few months…where did they go…I only wish I knew…somewhere in the middle of all that paper work (and my back office... can vouch for the same)[1] and the heat… I lost the last few months getting angsty over the heat and the terrible air conditioning at work…
A complete bankruptcy of ideas… a writers block like never before... lost in my own bubble, all I worried about was the heat... and nothing else mattered… every breathing minute was spent coming up with ideas to beat the heat…. I lost sleep... my peace of mind and everything there was to lose... Heat... summer… were the bane of my self perpetuated wasted quasi surreal existence…
I was a walking talking weather channel… you could question me about the temperature and the answers would even include the humidity, the direction and speed of the wind.
The rest of my hours were spent staring at the blue skies… trying to spot a cloud or even a speck of it… it was frankly a shyte state of affairs… Images of me dressed as a character from Lagaan[2]…. Running on the streets of Delhi serenading the rain and the clouds were a constant source of my non existent inspiration.
Dressed in a black jacket and gown[3] while I bathed my self in the pools of sweat all I thought of were those precious drops of rain … I even made enemies... the Admin head at work… who couldn’t make sure that the air conditioning was up to the mark was duly reported to the Big Boss, who well to put it mildly… kicked her sorry behind to the ebbs of the Solar System.
And then…. It ended…the dusty smog that had enveloped Delhi while I was burning in Gujarat transpired itself into a life saving blanket of grey. The skies changed color all while I sat there smoking my third cigarette… as lightning tore the sky and clouds clapped in joy, Delhi came to life… wee drops… like the excelsior of life fell all around… a battle like never before… the wee drops.. millions of them up against the burning heat…slow but steady... the heat abated… one and all poured onto the roads…not a worry in the world…just joy pure in its conception, like a torrent it washed away the heat and with it the sorrows… I just stood there a demented smile streaked across my face… a life worth living just for those few moments… all while that rain fell around me….
[1] For those who are not aware of my working environment, the back office entails the desk right behind mine... it’s a pile of papers and files… epitomizing the concept of order in chaos. It’s a work of art, no one but me can find a file there, people have tried and failed… and now it runs a wee warning “ Touch at Your own Peril”
[2] An Indian movie of great repute. Its where a bunch of Indians kick the English soldiers arses in a game of cricket, and while doing so pray for rain... ya I know it sounds all complicated. But it aint all that... or maybe it is
[3] Right I aint all that mad to wear that voluntarily, some of the evils of being a lawyer at the Supreme Court. Some one please tell the Judiciary that the English have left the country ….
The last few months…where did they go…I only wish I knew…somewhere in the middle of all that paper work (and my back office... can vouch for the same)[1] and the heat… I lost the last few months getting angsty over the heat and the terrible air conditioning at work…
A complete bankruptcy of ideas… a writers block like never before... lost in my own bubble, all I worried about was the heat... and nothing else mattered… every breathing minute was spent coming up with ideas to beat the heat…. I lost sleep... my peace of mind and everything there was to lose... Heat... summer… were the bane of my self perpetuated wasted quasi surreal existence…
I was a walking talking weather channel… you could question me about the temperature and the answers would even include the humidity, the direction and speed of the wind.
The rest of my hours were spent staring at the blue skies… trying to spot a cloud or even a speck of it… it was frankly a shyte state of affairs… Images of me dressed as a character from Lagaan[2]…. Running on the streets of Delhi serenading the rain and the clouds were a constant source of my non existent inspiration.
Dressed in a black jacket and gown[3] while I bathed my self in the pools of sweat all I thought of were those precious drops of rain … I even made enemies... the Admin head at work… who couldn’t make sure that the air conditioning was up to the mark was duly reported to the Big Boss, who well to put it mildly… kicked her sorry behind to the ebbs of the Solar System.
And then…. It ended…the dusty smog that had enveloped Delhi while I was burning in Gujarat transpired itself into a life saving blanket of grey. The skies changed color all while I sat there smoking my third cigarette… as lightning tore the sky and clouds clapped in joy, Delhi came to life… wee drops… like the excelsior of life fell all around… a battle like never before… the wee drops.. millions of them up against the burning heat…slow but steady... the heat abated… one and all poured onto the roads…not a worry in the world…just joy pure in its conception, like a torrent it washed away the heat and with it the sorrows… I just stood there a demented smile streaked across my face… a life worth living just for those few moments… all while that rain fell around me….
[1] For those who are not aware of my working environment, the back office entails the desk right behind mine... it’s a pile of papers and files… epitomizing the concept of order in chaos. It’s a work of art, no one but me can find a file there, people have tried and failed… and now it runs a wee warning “ Touch at Your own Peril”
[2] An Indian movie of great repute. Its where a bunch of Indians kick the English soldiers arses in a game of cricket, and while doing so pray for rain... ya I know it sounds all complicated. But it aint all that... or maybe it is
[3] Right I aint all that mad to wear that voluntarily, some of the evils of being a lawyer at the Supreme Court. Some one please tell the Judiciary that the English have left the country ….
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